


Run the Field You Play Alone

by actualite



Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M, Road Trips, Texas Rangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualite/pseuds/actualite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in February 2009. C.J. Wilson has been asked to get Josh Hamilton to Surprise for Spring Training. C.J. is more excited about this than he probably should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run the Field You Play Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】奔跑在外野](https://archiveofourown.org/works/784363) by [Absent_Attender (Eusta)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eusta/pseuds/Absent_Attender)



> Title from Elton John's "Someone Saved My Life Tonight."

_As it happens, the need for Hamilton to be clean and Wilson's history of being clean has made them natural buddies on the Ranger roster._

_"Josh and I have a very odd bond because of that,'' Wilson said Thursday. "The last couple of years him and I have gotten close because I was one of the few guys that he had the green light to hang out with ... because guys knew I was a zero risk in that sense."_ -From "Texas' Drug-Free Stars Josh Hamilton, C.J. Wilson Share Bond," John Hickey, Oct. 14, 2010

**February 2009**

**Dallas, TX -- > Fort Worth, TX 36 mi, 41mins**

When C.J. pulls up in front of Josh's house and turns the engine off he can hear yelling. The words are indistinct, but it's a woman's voice. He sits in the car for a few minutes, wondering whether he should get out, thinking maybe he should just text Josh and make sure this isn't a really bad time to be leaving.

Before he can, though, he sees the front door open, and Josh storms out, jogging down the walkway. He doesn't have anything on him, no duffel bag, not even a backpack. All C.J. can see is the crucifix bouncing against his chest as he strides toward the car.

"Hey, I was just gonna--" C.J. says, raising his hand awkwardly in a half-wave.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," Josh says. And then a few seconds later, "Excuse my language."

C.J. knew it was coming, but he rolls his eyes anyway, putting his sunglasses back down over his eyes and backing out of the driveway.

"Packed light, didn't you?" C.J. says, eyeing Josh out of the corner of his eye.

"My stuff's still in Arizona. I only came back here to have some conversations."

Some conversations? C.J. wants to ask what that means but maybe he's already supposed to know from the tone of Josh's voice. Normally C.J. wouldn't care about what he was or wasn't supposed to pick up on, but this is Josh, and if he's honest C.J. has always been really in awe of him. Probably for all the wrong reasons.

"Where are we staying tonight?" Josh says.

"No idea," C.J. says. "I thought we'd just get as far as we can and get a couple of hotel rooms when we feel like stopping."

Josh shrugs. "Fine by me."

C.J. remembers, suddenly, a conversation he overheard Josh having with Murph once about how he didn't do well without a plan, without structure, without a firm idea of what he could expect.

Maybe he was supposed to book a hotel room in advance. He hadn't really thought about it; he'd just gotten a call from Johnny Narron a few days ago when he was still in California asking if he'd be willing to drive Josh to Surprise, since no one else could accompany him and he was apparently "going through a difficult time."

C.J. knew he was supposed to feel resentful that he was being asked to be a babysitter, essentially, and he knew that Josh probably _did_ feel resentful that he was being babysat. But then C.J. had always been a little jealous of the fact that it was always Kinsler's room that Josh went to on the road when he needed someone other than a coach or his pastor or some other authority figure to talk to. Kins is a good guy, but sometimes he has a little too much fun. He and Davis get high together on a pretty regular basis. Nothing worse than weed, but still.

"I'm not supposed to, like, do anything, right?" C.J. blurts after a few minutes.

Josh looks up from whatever he was doing on his phone.

"You mean apart from getting me to Arizona?"

"Yeah."

"Well you also gotta make sure I don't end up in no titty bars," Josh says. "If I've got white dust around my nose, call JD and my father-in-law immediately. Maybe also the police. They'll know what to do."

"Fuck you, dude," C.J. says.

Josh smiles, that snaky smirk that has just enough meanness in it to make C.J. a little bit nervous. "I'm an addict," he says. "Not a two-year-old."

"That's arguable," C.J. says. "You're a baseball player. We're not supposed to be mature, right?"

Josh scoffs. "Tell that to my wife."

C.J.'s not sure if they're bantering or if Josh is genuinely annoyed. So he shuts up, waiting for the uncomfortable silence to stop seeming so loud.

**Fort Worth, TX -- > Abilene, TX 154 mi, 2hrs 43mins**

It doesn't take long once they're on I-20 for Josh to fall asleep. In fact, he falls asleep right in the middle of C.J.'s summary of one of his favorite movies, Darren Aronofsky's 1998 film _Pi_. C.J. tells himself he shouldn't be disappointed. There's no reason to expect a guy like Josh to understand the genius of a movie like _Pi._

He gives the engine some boost, kind of hoping the sound of the turbo wakes Josh up, but he doesn't even flinch, his head flopped against the window. It's a shame, C.J. thinks as he weaves through the cars on the interstate, smoothly gliding back and forth between the lanes, that Josh isn't awake to appreciate his driving. But then he probably wouldn't understand anyway. The guy doesn't even watch NASCAR. The only thing C.J. could do to impress him would be to dump a 16-point buck carcass at his feet.

Josh starts snoring. C.J. turns on the stereo to drown it out.

**Abilene, TX -- > Big Spring, TX 110 mi, 2hrs 3mins**

Josh sleeps straight through all of C.J.'s most annoying Dubstep remixes, not even stirring until C.J. pulls over at a rest area just after they pass through Trent.

C.J. opens his door and Josh starts, inhaling loudly through his nose and squinting out the window. "How long did I sleep?" he says thickly.

"We're barely out of Abilene," C.J. says, slamming the door shut and making for the restroom.

When he comes out, he sees Josh posing for a picture with two young boys and their dad, their mom holding the camera. He walks up to them.

"All right? You drive safe, now," Josh says to the family, smiling and shaking the dad's hand.

They all turn at C.J.'s approach and they stare at him for a moment, their faces blank. C.J. takes his sunglasses off.

"Hey," Josh says, eyeing C.J. piercingly, and the boys turn back to him. "You boys know who this guy is?" He doesn't wait for them to say they don't know, they have no idea who the hell this random guy is. "It's C.J. Wilson."

"Oh, yeah," the dad says. "You're a--what, reliever?"

C.J. wants to roll his eyes and walk away, but he shouldn't. "Yep," he says shortly.

"You boys want a picture with him too? He's gonna be a big deal soon," Josh says.

 _Fuck you,_ C.J. wants to say to Josh. _I don't need you to talk me up._ But the boys are already moving forward to stand next to him, and Josh has turned and is making his way toward the restroom.

The dad stays out of the picture this time. C.J. puts his hands around their shoulders. Their mom snaps the picture and tells the boys to say thank you.

The boys say it and they all stand around awkwardly as if waiting for C.J. to dispense some pearls of wisdom.

"So...do you boys play baseball?" C.J. asks.

"Oh, I remember now," the dad says. "You're the straight edge guy, right?"

"Um, yeah," C.J. says.

"What's straight edge?" one of the boys asks.

"It means I've made a lifelong commitment to never smoke or drink or do drugs," C.J. says. "If you're straight edge your respect yourself and your body."

"I suppose Josh is a big influence on you, then," the mom says, smiling as if she knows everything.

"Actually, I've been straight edge since I was a kid," C.J. says, crossing his arms. "Made the decision as a teenager and haven't ever looked back."

There's an uncomfortable silence, then, and the boys look like they've lost interest, scuffing at the pavement with their shoes. C.J. wishes Josh would come back out of the restroom.

"Well, boys, we'd better get back on the road," the dad says. "It was nice meeting you. Thanks for the pictures."

They pile back into their car and drive away, and finally Josh saunters out of the bathroom.

"I'm starving," he says easily. "When are we stopping for lunch?"

"Whenever," C.J. says curtly.

Josh's phone chirps and he reaches into his back pocket for it. C.J. just makes for the car, getting in and starting the ignition. Josh follows, staring down at his screen and smiling.

"Text from Ian," Josh says as C.J. drives out of the rest area.

"Oh, yeah?" C.J. says. "Why couldn't he give you a ride?"

Josh looks over at C.J. "He's not leaving for a week or so." He pauses. "Would you rather I'd waited and rode with him?"

"No," C.J. says quickly. "Just wondered why. You two seem close."

"Who doesn't like Ian?" Josh says, smiling again and turning back to his phone.

"I could name a few people," C.J. says under his breath, but the truth is the only reason he isn't better friends with Ian is because Ian never really seemed interested in being friends with C.J.

"How's Kam?" Josh says, putting his phone back in his pocket.

"He's in Japan," C.J. says. "How do you think?"

"All right," Josh says. "Sorry for asking."

"No, I didn't mean--I wasn't mad, dude." Somehow he just can't hit that perfect note of aggressive good humor that Josh and so many of the others have with each other. "I think he got engaged."

"Good for him," Josh says. "How do you feel about it?"

"Uh," C.J. says. "Fine? I don't really have an opinion, I guess."

"But you and him lived together, didn't you?"

"Um," C.J. says. "That's kind of irrelevant. We weren't, like, gay."

Josh laughs. "Wow, okay, no, I didn't think you were. I just meant in terms of things changing. Now that he's growing up, so to speak."

C.J. is embarrassed that he misinterpreted Josh's question. "I mean, I guess I'm bummed that he's in Japan more than that he's getting married."

"You have anyone you're getting serious with?" Josh asks.

"No," C.J. says. "You're not, like, trying to recommend marriage to me, are you?"

"There's a lot of good things about being married," Josh says, his voice taking on that slightly preachy quality. "But some bad, too. Mostly good."

"Seriously?" C.J. says incredulously. "I heard your wife screaming at you from inside your house when I was picking you up this morning."

"What's wrong with a little screaming?" Josh says, smirking again. "We'll make up. We always do."

"Must be nice," C.J. says, trying not to sound sarcastic. "Being able to take it for granted."

"Oh, I don't," Josh says. "But then we have Christ to...you know, help us through the hard parts. However mad I get, I know I can trust in that."

"Ugh. Don't talk about Christ. When you say the word 'Christ' it embarrasses me."

Josh doesn't seem offended. "I didn't think anything embarrassed you," he says.

"Why would you think that?"

Josh chuckles. "When I saw you doing your karate routine in the weight room the first day I met you, I thought to myself, 'That guy ain't ashamed of anything."

"It's Aikido," C.J. says, "and why the hell should I have been embarrassed?"

"No reason at all," Josh says. "I admire that about you." He makes a vague hand gesture. "Heck, if I was a little more like you I'd probably never have gotten into trouble in the first place. I wouldn't have been so worried about getting people to like me."

Everything he says is like some kind of backhanded compliment. C.J. knows he should feel insulted, but something about Josh is so smooth and charismatic that it's impossible not to take everything he says at face value.

**Big Spring, TX -- > Midland, TX 40 mi, 48mins**

"I think there's a Whataburger in Big Spring," Josh says after a few minutes. "Let's stop there."

So they do. They both agree to go inside to eat since C.J. doesn't trust Josh not to drip condiments all over the inside of his car and Josh says he's tired of being cooped up.

They go in and Josh orders a Triple Meat Triple Cheese.

"You're gonna have a coronary," C.J. says.

"I guess I'll die happy," Josh replies. "I guarantee it's better than that grilled chicken."

"Eating right is one of the best gifts you can give yourself."

Josh laughs. "I figure in the scheme of things, a burger ain't so bad. Besides, Spring Training hasn't started yet. Gotta enjoy these while we still can. We're gonna have Jose breathing down our necks in a couple of days."

"I'm trying to get my friend Aaron to come cook for me during the season," C.J. says, watching Josh wolf his sandwich down. "I figure paying him to help me eat well gives him a sweet job and is also a pretty good investment in my career."

"Isn't that what wives are for?" Josh says.

"What, cooking? Dude, this is the twenty-first century."

"My wife makes me a home-cooked meal every night. I don't have to pay her to do it."

"What does she make you? Tuna casseroles and jello salad?"

"Hey, that's the kind of stuff I grew up on. Didn't do me any harm."

Sometimes C.J. wishes he could move back to California where people are normal and have the right perspective about things.

They're interrupted soon after by someone else who recognizes Josh. C.J. sits back and waits for Josh to finish hugging a family of eight people so they can get back on the road.

**Midland, TX -- > Odessa, TX 22 mi, 28mins**

By the time they pass Midland Josh is getting antsy.

"I need to stretch my legs," he keeps saying.

"Why don't you just take another nap?" C.J. says irritably. It's becoming increasingly clear that this roadtrip is not going to be the great opportunity for establishing friendship that C.J. thought it would be. For one thing, Josh keeps texting Ian, smiling and laughing every time he gets a reply.

Josh ignores him. He's shaking his leg at some insane frequency, his whole body nearly vibrating with pent-up energy.

"Dude, do you need to pee or something?" C.J. says.

"Yeah," Josh says. "Here, just pull over, there's hardly anyone around."

"You know someone's going to realize who you are and stop to take a picture of you with your dick out, right?"

"Who cares?" Josh says airily. "Ain't too many people left who haven't seen it. C'mon, pull over."

So C.J. does, and while Josh is standing a few yards away doing his business C.J. sees a sign.

_STONEHENGE_

There's an arrow pointing north.

Josh gets back in the car.

"Detour," C.J. announces.

"What?" Josh says.

"I wanna follow this sign," C.J. says.

The signs take them into Odessa and then they're on the UTPB campus. It's just what C.J. expected: a cheesy replica in the middle of nowhere that looks completely out of place. The stones themselves are nice enough, but C.J. can see a Pizza Hut and a Home Depot behind them.

"This is unbelievable," Josh says, getting out of the car and slamming the door.

C.J. reaches for his camera in the back seat. The sun is just starting to set, parts of the blue sky streaking with other colors. Josh jogs up to one of the stones and puts a hand on it, reaching up as far as he can, and then he begins to climb one of them.

"Pretty sure it's in our contracts that we can't do any free solo rock climbing," C.J. calls, but Josh pays no attention. He pulls himself up with his strong arms and soon he's standing on top of one of the structures, surveying the view.

C.J. raises his camera and takes a picture, the low angle and the clouds behind Josh making the photo look like a portrait of some kind of mythic hero.

"You coming up?" Josh calls, looking down at C.J.

Normally C.J. is more of a daredevil, but something about the whole situation makes him feel a sense of unease, almost like fear.

"No," he says. "We should get back on the road. I want to get at least as far as Horizon City by tonight."

Josh does a very precarious slide-leap combination to get back down, landing in the gravel in a cloud of dust.

He brushes his pants off. "How long 'til we get to Horizon City?"

"I don't know. Maybe four hours?"

"We should've flown," Josh says.

For some reason that hurts C.J.'s feelings.

**Odessa, TX -- > Pecos, TX 77 mi, 1hr 15mins**

"Hey, can I turn on the radio?" Josh says once it gets dark.

"I guess," C.J. says. "I've got satellite radio."

He turns it on for Josh and shows him how to change the station.

Josh flips through a bunch of them and of course he settles on some kind of Christian rock station.

It's terrible, C.J. thinks. Like Creed, only they're singing about Jesus.

" _You are my desire / No one else will do / And no one else can take Your place / To feel the warmth of Your embrace_ ," the singer croons.

"You know," C.J. can't help saying after a few verses of this, "if I didn't know this was Christian rock I would think these songs are pretty homoerotic."

"How so?" Josh says.

"You know, dudes singing about their love for another dude. How much they need the dude. How he's strong and mighty."

"I guess you hear what you want to hear," Josh says.

C.J. doesn't look over but he can tell Josh probably has that smirk on his face.

When the silence draws out, Josh finally turns the radio off.

"I was just kidding," he says.

"That's the second time you've pretty much come right out and called me gay today," C.J. says.

"Hey, I'm not the one who keeps bringing it up. And no, actually, I haven't even called you gay once."

"Being gay isn't a bad thing, you know," C.J. says, wishing he could turn the whole conversation around so that Josh is the one at a disadvantage.

"Didn't say it was," Josh said. "You're the one calling Kutless gay because they sing about loving the Lord."

He's right, and C.J. grips the steering wheel, angry at Josh and angry at himself for trying to sound smart and make fun of Josh and ending up sounding like a dick.

"Hey, it's all right," Josh says after a few minutes.

"I'm not mad, bro," C.J. says through his teeth.

"All right, _bro_ ," Josh says, and C.J. gets the distinct impression that Josh is making fun of him again.

In a few minutes they get to Pecos.

"Let's just stop here for the night," C.J. says. "I've had enough of driving today."

"Whatever you say," Josh says easily. "I could run a mile. Hate being cooped up all day."

C.J. sees a sign for a Best Western, so they pull off and get a couple of rooms.

"Be ready to go by nine," C.J. says as they part ways at the elevator. "I want to try to get to Phoenix tomorrow."

"I'll do my best. All I can do," Josh says, grinning. He looks almost sly, his eyes glinting. C.J. rolls his eyes and makes his way down to his room, shutting the door with more force than necessary.

**Pecos, TX -- > El Paso, TX 211 mi, 3hrs 5mins**

After something of a restless night C.J. is up at six in his effort to acclimate to the early mornings required in spring training, and he makes his way down to the gym in the hotel to run a few miles on the treadmill. It's completely empty but for him, and he plugs his headphones in and gets in the zone. It's not as good as running outdoors but as he gets his heart rate up and gets to a good pace he feels everything in him settle into a familiar rhythm. Everything feels better when he's moving, sweating, working, the world becoming ordered, cause and effect completely within his control.

The hotel is kitschy, Alpine-themed with cheap replica Swiss clocks hanging everywhere, but the complimentary breakfast is decent, and C.J. starts up a conversation with an older couple, the only other ones at breakfast that early. By 8:30 he's ready to go, but he hasn't heard anything from Josh, so he settles in to check Twitter.

By ten he still hasn't heard anything from Josh. Getting impatient, he picks up all his stuff and goes to Josh's room, knocking on the door.

There's no answer, so C.J. knocks again. After the third knock, he finally hears some shuffling in the room.

The door opens. Josh looks like shit, dark circles under his eyes, his face looking almost saggy. He's wearing only a white t-shirt and his boxers.

"Are you ready?" C.J. asks rhetorically.

"Shit," Josh mumbles. "No, just, give me five minutes."

He leaves the door open, so C.J. just stands awkwardly in the doorway, watching Josh struggle to pull his pants on and stumble around the room looking for his wallet, his room key, his sunglasses. The room is stuffy, the air thick with the smell of sleep and something a little putrid.

"Did you--are you hung over?" C.J. asks slowly.

"No," Hamilton says baldly. "C'mon, let's go." He's put his sunglasses on already, even though the room is dim, the curtains drawn tightly shut.

C.J. just shakes his head and they leave the room, Josh smelling stale and rumpled next to him.

Where could he have even gone, C.J. wonders. Pecos isn't exactly a thriving metropolis. But then Josh has always been the kind of guy who could enjoy himself in the diviest of dives. C.J. feels a mixture of remorse and disgust--remorse for not keeping a better eye on him when it was his responsibility to do so, and disgust that Josh couldn't even be trusted to not leave a hotel room just down the hall from C.J. in search of a good time.

C.J. asks Josh if he wants to eat something before they go, since the continental breakfast ended at nine, but Josh just shakes his head. He's frowning, his head down, and then C.J. feels something else. He feels sorry for Josh, and that's new.

They get in the car and Josh doesn't look at him, his reflective sunglasses over his eyes, his head turned to look out the window. C.J. realizes he spent all of yesterday feeling at a disadvantage but that it's nothing compared to what Josh must be feeling right now.

They have to stop twenty minutes later by the side of the road because Josh has to take another piss. And then they have to stop at a gas station because he needs some Advil and a bottle of water. C.J. fills up the tank and when Josh comes out he's carrying three bags of Corn Nuts, a Gatorade, two bottles of water, Advil, a can of dip, and a styrofoam cup.

Once they're back in the car Josh dumps everything on the floor but the dip, opening it up.

"You don't mind, do you?" he asks.

C.J. does, actually, but he tries his hardest not to say so. He shakes his head slightly.

Josh spits into the cup, and it just sits there in C.J.'s pristine cupholder, a disgusting brown slime at the bottom. A few minutes later he opens a bag of Corn Nuts with too much force and they go flying.

"Sorry," he says.

"Don't worry about it," C.J. says with difficulty, swallowing down his exasperation.

By the time C.J. is merging back onto I-10 Josh is asleep again. C.J. sighs.

**El Paso, TX -- > Anthony, TX 21 mi, 28mins**

C.J.'s been hungry for about 70 miles before they reach El Paso. He's in the mood for tacos so he stops at another rest area to look for someplace good on his phone. It isn't until he's parked and about to roll the windows down that he notices Josh is awake, and has been for a while.

"I fucked up," Josh says when he feels C.J.'s eyes on him. His voice is slightly unsteady.

"You mean last night?" C.J. says. "I mean--I wish you'd knocked on my door or something before you decided to go out on your own--"

"No--well, I mean before. Earlier this winter, up in Tempe."

"What do you mean by fucked up?"

"I mean--they're trying to blackmail me with these pictures they took."

"What kind of pictures?" C.J. asks warily, not sure he wants to know.

"Just--stupid shit I did at a bar that my wife shouldn't have had to see."

C.J. digests this information. A part of him is amazed at how different the Josh of today is from the Josh of yesterday. Yesterday he was upbeat, almost playful, careless. And now here he is, looking like he's near tears because of the amount of pain he has caused his family. Josh is prone to mood swings, C.J. knows. He could bring down the entire mood of the clubhouse if he was in a funk, but if he was in a good mood he could be more exuberant than Elvis.

"Does the team know? Your agent?"

"Yeah," Josh says. "They told me to just sit on it and that it'd be dealt with if it went public, but I'm going crazy thinking about when and how they're going to put it out there."

"You shouldn't--" C.J. clears his throat, trying to think of what to say. "You can't think about that. You can't control any of it. All you can take responsibility for is your own actions."

"Yeah, but taking responsibility--what does that mean? Maybe I should just come out and tell everyone. Call a press conference or something. Maybe that's the only way to face it. Head on."

The car is getting hot even with the windows down, the sun shining on C.J. through the driver's side window. It's loud, too, with the sound of cars and semis rolling by in the parking lot.

"I don't know, man," C.J. says, after a while. "You wanna go grab some tacos?"

Josh smiles, rueful. C.J. can see a Corn Nut resting in a crease in his shirt. "Fine," Josh says.

So they do. Within half an hour they're sitting in a small restaurant lit with fluorescent lights, one misshapen donkey pinata dangling from the ceiling above their heads and swaying side to side slightly on the wind being blown by metal fan mounted in a cage on the wall. But the tacos are amazing, the shells crisp and fragrant, the vegetables fresh, and the meat tender and flavorful.

C.J. is on his fourth taco when he notices that Josh doesn't seem to be enjoying his much.

"C'mon, man," C.J. says, his mouth full. "You inhaled that Triple yesterday at Whataburger."

"I've never been that into Mexican food," Josh says, though he finishes the taco on his plate.

C.J. is still eating when Josh sits back and crosses his arms.

"So how do you do it?" Josh says.

C.J. swallows. "Do what," he says, getting a paper napkin out of the dispenser to wipe his mouth.

"Stay clean?"

C.J. shrugs, trying to act cool even though he's insanely flattered and, if he's honest with himself, excited about the idea of Josh freaking Hamilton asking for his advice. Or at least calling on his experience.

"Well, first off, I have clear goals. I know what I want, and I know what I have to do to achieve those goals. And secondly, I try to surround myself with people who create a positive environment. People who are really motivated and driven, who are interesting and know how to have fun but not in ways that are destructive. People who are passionate. There are so many interesting things to do and experience in life, in the world, and if you make it your goal to take advantage of that, you don't have time for all the stuff that can bring you down."

Josh's lips curl in what could be a smile but probably isn't. "And are you happy?"

"Heck yes," C.J. says. But even as he says it, Josh's eyes make him feel like he's lying.

"Look," C.J. continues determinedly, "all you can do is give yourself the opportunity to be happy. All that other shit...it doesn't even give you a fighting chance. I saw what it did to people around me when I was growing up."

Josh doesn't say anything for a few minutes, just pushing the remnants of his lunch around. "I don't got anything but baseball," he says finally. "It's the only thing that gives me that rush, that feel of bein' alive. I'm not like you."

"You could be. If you really wanted."

Josh eyes him speculatively. "I know you think I'm preachy," he says after a while. "But I think a lot of what we talk about to young kids, how we get our message out there, it ain't that different."

C.J. instinct is to disagree immediately, everything in him rebelling at the idea of his personal philosophy and the way he disseminates it resembling Josh's ministry in any way.

"I'm not Christian," he says.

"I know," Josh says. "But here we are."

C.J. wonders if Josh is trying to convert him, recruit him, whatever it is they call it in the church. The thought doesn't disturb him nearly as much as the knowledge that it might not be as difficult as C.J. thinks it should be.

"Are you done?" C.J. says.

"What, with my food?" Josh says. He shrugs. "Let's go."

They get back in the car silently, and neither of them speaks, the radio silent. When C.J. glances down at the speedometer, he sees that for once, he's driving at exactly the speed limit.

**Anthony, TX -- > Las Cruces, NM 27.3 mi, 35mins**

"Look, it's one of them roadrunners," Josh says, just after they pass over the border to New Mexico.

C.J. sees the small form of a brown bird running floppily along the side of the highway, but they pass it quickly.

"Funny little bird," Josh says. "I always felt sorry for Wile E. Coyote in those old cartoons."

"So did I," C.J. says. "I think everyone did."

"Strange, ain't it?" Josh says, running a hand over the reddish stubble on his face. "That everyone was on his side. He only ever got what was coming to him."

"In the end I guess people feel like effort should be rewarded," C.J. says. "No matter what purpose the effort was serving."

"I guess we shouldn't think too hard about a kids' cartoon," Josh says.

C.J. doesn't answer.

**Las Cruces, NM -- > Mile Post 135, I-10, NM 10 mi, 11mins**

"You know there's that roadrunner statue, right?" Josh says a little while later. "It's like a sculpture or something. Made of trash. Kind of famous. We stopped there once with the girls. You wanna take some pictures of it with that camera of yours? Seems like the kind of thing you'd like."

C.J. turns to look at Josh briefly. "No, I didn't know that. Where is it?"

"A little ways west of Las Cruces, right on I-10, if I remember right. It's at some rest area."

"Well, keep an eye out. I'm curious."

They drive through Las Cruces and keep heading west, but after a while Josh says, "Hm, I think we may've passed it."

"You wanna look it up on my phone? Or wait, never mind, I need to gas up anyway, let's just stop at this Exxon and ask someone."

So they do. They're the only car at the station and there's some kind of kitschy souvenir shop next to the gas station. _Bowlin's Old West Trading Post_ , the sign says. C.J. gets his camera out. The sky is a deep blue color and the building is white. It'll make a good photograph.

Inside, the store is filled with pottery and cheap trinkets. There's a whole section of fireworks. C.J. snaps a few pictures of the overstuffed shelves, and he sees Josh approach the young guy at the counter to ask about directions to the roadrunner sculpture.

"Whereabouts are you from?" the boy asks after explaining how to get to the rest area in question. Apparently it's only accessible in the eastbound direction.

"Dallas," Josh says. "We're ballplayers. Headed to Phoenix for Spring Training."

"Oh," the boy says blankly. "That's awesome."

He has no idea who they are. That makes C.J. smile. He imagines for a moment that he and Josh aren't teammates but friends on a road trip, together not because they were assigned to be but because they wanted to be.

They drive back toward Las Cruces and turn off at the rest stop after exit 135, and sure enough, there it is, trash molded around a metal frame in the shape of a giant bird.

There's something so lonely about it, the way it looms up out of the dust and shrubs of the desert, staring out at nothing.

Josh walks up to it and stares up at it, and even he is dwarfed by it. C.J. takes a picture, and then Josh turns. He makes a crazy face, his eyes crossed and his tongue sticking out, and C.J. laughs, taking another picture.

Another family walks up, and C.J. impulsively goes up to the parents. "Would one of you mind taking a picture of us?" he says.

"Sure," the woman says. C.J. gives her very specific instructions on how to use the camera and then he walks over underneath the roadrunner's neck to stand next to Josh.

Josh is taller, of course, and he drapes one arm around C.J.'s shoulders heavily, leaning into him.

C.J. raises his own hand behind Josh's back to rest it on Josh's shoulder, and he smiles widely.

The woman snaps the picture and Josh's arm drops. C.J. walks over to thank her and take the camera back.

The sun is getting low on the horizon by then. When C.J. looks back toward Josh to see if he's ready to get back in the car, Josh is facing away from him, looking out over the city beneath, his shadow stretching out long and gangly before him.

C.J. goes to wait for Josh in the car by himself.

**Mile Post 135, I-10, NM -- > San Simon, AZ 143 mi, 2hrs 20mins**

"We really gonna try to make it to Phoenix tonight?" Josh asks, shifting in the bucket seat uncomfortably.

"Yes," C.J. says determinedly. "I don't care how late it is. We stopped too many times today to buy you dip and gum and all that other garbage that's all over the floor now. And I can't fucking believe how much you pee."

"I'm gonna get fuckin' hemorrhoids," Josh says grumpily. Today has not been the kind of day where Josh apologized for bad language, C.J. notes.

"Come on," C.J. says. "Don't tell me you don't want to get there as soon as possible so you don't have to be cooped up with me in this car any longer than you have to be."

He senses Josh turning toward him in the darkness. "What gave you that idea?"

C.J. shrugs, passing a very slow moving pickup truck hauling a mattress. "I know you'd have a way better time with Kins or someone."

Josh turns back to look at the road ahead. "Having a good time is overrated."

Another backhanded compliment. But for some reason it warms C.J. all the way through. He wants to blurt out a bunch of stupid things, things like, _I'm here for you, bro,_ or _I'm having a fucking awesome time,_ or _We should do this every year._

"Are you still thinking about the pictures?" he says instead, trying to be more wary than effusive.

"No," Josh says. "I'd managed to forget about them for two minutes before you had to bring them up again."

"Sorry," C.J. says, cursing himself inwardly.

"Look, no one else on the team knows about them. Yet. I'd appreciate it if you would keep it to yourself."

"You can trust me," C.J. says quickly, and curses himself again. He sounds like a desperate adolescent.

"I know, I just--don't think that just because me and Kins are tight I would tell him or anyone else on the team everything."

C.J. doesn't want to ask but he can't help himself. "So why did you tell me?"

Josh is silent for a few moments. "I don't know," he says after a while. "Maybe because we both get in trouble but for opposite reasons."

C.J. has to chuckle at that. "Me for being too much of a nerd and you for being--for being--" Degenerate? Immoral? Debauched? C.J. can't really think of a word that wouldn't sound really bad.

"Yeah, me for being pretty much everything else," Josh says. He turns to C.J. again. "You should be proud of who you are."

"I am," C.J. says.

"No, I don't mean that as advice," Josh says. "I mean it as--a compliment, I guess."

"Oh," C.J. says. He scratches the side of his head. "Well, thanks."

"You're welcome," Josh says. Then he reclines the seat. "Wake me up when we get there."

They cross the border into Arizona.

**San Simon, AZ -- > Tucson, AZ, 121 mi, 2hrs 57mins**

C.J. wants to get all the way to Phoenix, he really does, but by the time they're about to Tucson his eyelids feel like lead, so he pulls off I-10 and stops at a Fairfield Inn.

"Dude," he says, shoving Josh's shoulder a little to wake him up.

"What?" Josh says, starting and raising his head. "Are we in Phoenix?"

"No," C.J. says. "Couldn't make it. We're in Tucson."

"Oh," Josh says. He stretches and runs his hand over his face. "What time is it?"

"About ten," C.J. says.

"Still early," Josh says.

"I was up at six this morning," C.J. says dryly. "Thought we were going to get an early start."

"Oh, yeah," Josh says. He smiles weakly. "Look, we'd better--we'd better share a room. I'll do better if we do."

C.J. pauses. "Okay," he says, and then gets out of the car before he can say anything stupid.

Twenty minutes later he's leading Josh into their room.

"Two queens, huh?" Josh says, and C.J. can feel his ears go a little red.

"Look, it was your idea," he says defiantly.

Josh looks over at him, smirking a little. "You sure are sensitive about the gay stuff."

"I'm too tired for this right now," C.J. says, pulling out his phone to check his text messages so that he can cover up his embarrassment. There's nothing worse than appearing to lack a sense of humor but a lot of the time C.J. can't really fake it.

He's about to open a text from his brother when suddenly Josh comes up next to him and grabs C.J. in a headlock.

"Dude, get off," C.J. says with difficulty as Josh pulls him down and knuckles the top of his head.

"You're too serious," Josh says, laughing. He's so fucking big and strong, and C.J. tries to squirm away but he can't, so he just pushes, trying to get some momentum, and succeeds only in tipping them over onto the bed. Josh immediately rolls over onto him and holds down C.J.'s wrists, and he stares down at C.J., still smiling.

C.J. realizes in one horrifying instant that he's getting hard. But there's no way to hide it. He stares up at Josh, sure that the anguish is writ plain on his face, and just gives in to the surprising pleasure of feeling the weight of Josh's enormous body on top of him.

It takes Josh longer to realize than C.J. thinks it will. When he does, though, his smile fades.

He doesn't scramble away or anything, just sits back a little, easing his weight off of C.J.

"I apologize," he says, the word so formal but the smooth lilt of his voice making it sound sincere, even intimate.

"Let me up," C.J. says tightly.

So Josh does, getting up off the bed and standing back, resting his hands on his hips and looking down at the carpet sorrowfully.

C.J. gets up and makes his way quickly to the bathroom, where he shuts the door. Not even the embarrassment of the moment is making his erection go away, apparently, so he just unbuckles his belt and takes hold of himself, leaning against the door and thinking about Josh standing just on the other side of it.

He pulls himself off quietly, scrunching his eyes shut and mouthing words silently, words he wishes Josh wanted to hear. It doesn't take long for him to finish, and when he does he wipes himself up with toilet paper and flushes the toilet. And then he washes his hands and forces himself to go out.

Josh hasn't left the room, amazingly. He's lying on the other bed, legs stretched out in front of him, the T.V. on quietly.

"I fuck everything up," he says.

"No," C.J. says. "I don't know what that was. I'll try to forget about it and I'd appreciate if you'd do the same."

Josh stares at him for a little while and then looks back to the T.V. "I can get another room if you want me to."

C.J. shrugs, turning away. "Only if you're--if things are weird now. For you."

Josh doesn't say anything. He doesn't leave, either, just keeps watching T.V.

"You wanna order a pizza or something?" he says after a few minutes. "I'm still hungry. I saw a Domino's out there."

C.J. turns back to Josh, sees the way he's looking over at C.J., grinning just like he did before, like he doesn't even know what awkwardness means.

"Uh, yeah, sure," C.J. says.

"Great," Josh says. "Hand me that phone book."

C.J. does.

**Tucson, AZ -- > Phoenix, AZ 116 mi, 2hrs 1min**

Josh groans a little when C.J.'s alarm goes off the next morning, but within half an hour he's up, and he says he wants to go for a run with C.J. So they do, jogging in companionable silence along the tree-lined avenues around the hotel, the occasional car roaring by, and Josh looks energetic and upbeat when they get back.

"Felt good," he says, and C.J. can't help smiling.

They decide to eat breakfast at the Denny's around the corner. Josh gets a Lumberjack Slam and drinks three cups of coffee and C.J. has a veggie scramble.

They're both recognized this time by a middle-aged guy having breakfast with his elderly father, who asks them both to autograph a napkin because he has nothing else on him.

Halfway through breakfast C.J. gets a text from Salty.

_Excited to get this going!! U in camp yet?_

Just a few seconds later Josh's phone chirps.

"Salty?" C.J. says.

Josh chuckles. "Yeah," he says. "So it begins."

There's a short pause, and even though C.J. is reluctant to break the mood, he has to say it.

"Look, I just wanted to say--about last night--it wasn't you," he says. "I mean, you don't have to worry about me trying to...whatever."

Josh shakes his head. "Here's the deal: I won't worry if you won't," he says.

"Okay," C.J. says.

"I'm here for you," Josh says.

C.J. remembers yesterday, when he wanted to say those words but was afraid to. He realizes, maybe for the first time, that he doesn't need to be afraid of Josh.

"I'm here for you too, man," he says deliberately.

"That means a lot to me," Josh says, smiling.

They finish their breakfast in companionable silence, and soon they're back on I-10 on their way to Phoenix, to baseball, to spring.

**Phoenix, AZ -- > Surprise, AZ 24 mi, 43 min**

"Good old Bell Road," Josh says as they inch their way forward in the heavy traffic. "I always miss it."

"You wanna drive?" C.J. asks.

"Sure," Josh says.

"That was a rhetorical question. No one drives this car but me."

"I figured," Josh says.

It takes half an hour longer than it should but soon they're nearing the field, and C.J. feels that spike of excitement in spite of himself. Spring Training is always a bit of a drag but no matter how many years he gets under his belt nothing can beat that feeling of knowing that it's really starting, that real baseball is just around the corner.

They pull into the player's parking lot to check in and pick up some scheduling information and some early mail. The park is pretty empty. There are a few minor league pitchers milling around in the weight room, but the practice fields are deserted.

C.J. walks through the clubhouse and pushes open the door that leads onto the nearest practice field, looking out at it. Soon the fields will be teeming with people, players and fans and coaches and scouts and journalists.

"Back again," Josh says, coming up behind him.

C.J. turns. "Yeah," he says, and he can't help grinning.

Josh holds up his phone briefly. "Got a voicemail. Katie's bringing the girls up next week."

"Okay," C.J. says, his smile fading. "That's good. They'll keep you out of trouble."

Josh regards C.J. for a moment, his face inscrutable, and then he leans forward. Before C.J. realizes what's happening, Josh is kissing him, holding the back of his neck. It's quick, just a brief press of their faces together, but just long enough that C.J. can feel the warmth of Josh's lips.

Josh stands back, and C.J. instinctively looks around. There's no one behind them, in front of them, anywhere around them. Just the grass and the dirt and the blue sky.

"Thanks for the ride," Josh says. "And for bein'...a friend."

"Any time," C.J. says automatically. He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, confused and shocked and happy all at once.

"It's gonna be a long season," Josh says. "It always is. But we can have a good time, you and me."

C.J. wants to say yes, but the word sticks in his throat.

"Okay," Josh says. "I got Johnny coming to pick me up. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," C.J. says. "See you tomorrow."

Josh smiles briefly and walks away.

C.J. turns back to look out over the outfield grass, to relish the fact that he's here, that he belongs here, that there's a lot to look forward to.


End file.
